I Remember


I Remember


“And what do you remember?”

I remember your lips soft yet frantic

searching for love and romance

eyes open at times I watched you dance

in my mouth with the trill of adventure

curling up on your tongue-

“Did you love me?”

Like the moon loves the sun

and the clouds love the sky to run free

all across like I did on your skin,

on the ridges and folds that I spun

with my hands on a spree

unrestrained to ride hard for a night

“But you left me alone”

To pursue ghostly dreams, yes I did

with the intent to return

and reclaim what was mine,

but how foolish I was, all I got

in your hands left behind

turned to dust… “You forgot?”

Never! I will always remember-


“Ten long trips around the sun since I last saw that smile, but only joy and thankfulness that on a tiny world in the vastness, for a couple of moments in the immensity of time, we were one.”

― Ann Druyan


Skin to Skin



Skin to Skin


There is something about skin to skin

that intoxicates and dull my senses,

the exquisite feel of sweat and oil

between the tightness of two bodies

that glide across with legs uncoil

in rubbing back and forth desires-

There is something that consumes my mind

her rounded back which makes me flushed

with lust and wants, and my body tenses

amid the moans when holding strong

skin to skin, my fingers rushed

between her thighs the pleasure find

and lost become where I belong,

skin to skin-


“There is a perfection in everything that cannot be owned.”

― Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus

Eyes Closed



Eyes Closed


I found solace in her arms wrapped

around the comfort of desires let loose

by a need to discover and seduce

our bodies for a night-

But a night not enough to satisfy

our thirst for a touch,

we made love with eyes closed

then resolved it was right

 for two nights

and pretended was fair.

But two nights our thirst did not quench

and so stayed for a week

while we kissed with eyes closed

and pretended was right

for a week our thirst to overcome,

but a week not enough

for two restless souls

searching love to succumb

thus we kissed with eyes closed

and pretended was fate,

as we stayed and made love for a while

with our skin needing touch

we built time to forget

when we kissed and we touched

with eyes closed

and pretended was love-


“But maybe happiness isn’t in the choosing. Maybe it’s in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.”

― Lauren Oliver, Requiem

This Longing



This Longing


So exhausting this longing

curling up like bad milk on the top of my days,

restless soul when it sneaks in my dreams

and it digs, and it sifts

and it screams

for a something that stays

and scratches and lifts

a burning itch in my heart-

So exhausting this longing

flaring up like a fever all alone late in nights

when it tosses and turns

while it scorches and incites

all the wishes and wants

for a something that burns-

So exhausting this longing

stuck like glue to the thoughts in my mind

and it whispers and pleads

for a something to find-


“…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.”

― Homer, The Iliad






There was heat in your touch

of caressing fingers

a touch I yearn for when no longer here

but your presence lingers

in between my sheets

in between my memories of a sweet affair

when your body gave me the relief I wanted

and you became the air

and the blood that rushed through my heated skin.

There was heat in your kisses

that made my head spin

when you strode above riding me with pleasure

and your breast became tantalizing toys

for my mouth to play an enticing game.

You became a want every single day

 and I lost myself to the love you gave

and so badly needed,

you became my heat in the coldest night

with your burning flame.


“The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame.

He might get burned, but he’s in the game.

And once he’s in, he can’t go back, he’ll

Beat his wings ’til he burns them black…

No, The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame. . .

The Moth don’t care if The Flame is real,

‘Cause Flame and Moth got a sweetheart deal.

And nothing fuels a good flirtation,

Like Need and Anger and Desperation…

No, The Moth don’t care if The Flame is real. . . ”

― Aimee Mann

So Brief



So Brief


So brief ‘twas love but lasting yearn

will clutch my heart,

the heavens feel of loving once,

the hellish pain of losing part

of what became my daily fare

of cherished eyes

that looked upon this nether man-

So brief her lips

that left me stained in crimson red

to paint my dreams

of Neverland

and brief her skin

that kept me warm in winter’s heart

and fed my crave.

So brief the nights of naughty sin

when lost I found in her a land

to house my grave,

eternal soul forever yearn

so brief ‘twas-


“How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into.”

― Sylvia Plath

Of Passing Love



Of Passing Love


There are those I learned to love

across a room veiling looks of yearning,

across an ocean far, so far in nights of burning

their passion glowed across the distance.

But none would stay

to find what’s underneath

my wistful words

while dreams like clouds across the sky

would rain my love on empty lands

to grow the fruits of my existence.

I learned to love their tender hands

of those who touched my weary heart

and found a place to hide their pain

and the same hands

on summer nights  over the heat

of sweaty skin would make me ache

with deep desire-

I learned to love from them the fire

the spark of life that would defy

a dark sad day,

but none would stay

to find what’s underneath

my skin and bones

while life like waves was washed away

erasing prints of passing love-


“the saddest thing is to be

a minute to someone,

when you’ve made them your eternity.”

― Sanober Khan